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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24169816">To Describe A Nebula</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/999blackflowers/pseuds/999blackflowers'>999blackflowers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rick and Morty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Citadel of Ricks, Ficlet, Fluff, Incest but obviously, M/M, Mild Angst, Minor exploration of citadel behaviour, Short &amp; Sweet, no betas we die like men, oc pairing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:54:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,734</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24169816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/999blackflowers/pseuds/999blackflowers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Morty H-940𝓼 spots a nebula and tries to write a poem before his Rick gets home.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To Describe A Nebula</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Short unedited ficlet I wrote a bit back, please enjoy.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Morty H-940𝓼 was sitting on the couch of the tiny flat he was living in, staring out at the artificial Citadel sky. 365 different skies each night in each simulated year. Tonight, Morty wasn’t sure where the Citadel had been teleported, but the artificial sunset sky was fading from a gold orange to a… swirling blue nebula cloud and a starry sky. That was real.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ah. Morty gasped, deciding he wanted a better look at this beautiful sight. So he hurried through the dilapidated flat living room, going to the door to throw it open and run down to the nearby park so he could get a clear view of the sky.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was already quite chilly out here. The fake wind ran through his curls as he sprinted barefoot through to the grass circle. A couple of other Ricks were around- oh, that one was drunk, but Morty was more interested in the sky right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The glass sky was hundreds and hundreds of metres above, framed by the tall buildings that rose around many small squares like these - but from here Morty could see that beautiful nebula.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wow.” Morty plopped down on the grass - still dry. One of his other Morty friends would be coming around to water this grass and a couple of the flowers later, but for now he could lay back in the grass and stare up at the stars.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulled a little notebook from his pocket and clicked a pen, deciding to try to find the words to describe that beautiful cloud. And he began to try and write a couple of words he’d remembered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>cerulean</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>navy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>indigo?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>twirling</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Billowing</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Billowing was a good word. And indigo was a good word to describe some of the purple-y colours up in that cloud.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Endless night falls on us again</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Billowing indigo so great</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he could show this to Rick, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rick. He was out doing some poetry tonight on an open mic night in the central citadel. But for now he was going to go back inside to whip up some rice and curry, he’d been learning to cook as of late and Rick worked hard and needed a nice hot meal when he got home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rick H-940𝓼 never went up on stage sober. He was more sober than most Ricks, due to the near constant alcoholism of most Ricks seemingly having been swapped out for an intense caffeine and coffee addiction, but even then, he needed at least </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>liquor in his system before he went up on stage. The bar was rather cramped at this hour, most Ricks had their favourite go-to bar and it just so happened to be this one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was easier to impress a crowd when 70% of the patrons of the bar wasn’t just </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, except without an appreciation for art. Sure, he was a scientist. But the universe was a cold uncaring work of art and he’d be damned if he, Rick Sanchez H-940𝓼 didn’t write about it. He liked to try and divide himself from the crowds of himself by, well. He had a little compact mirror out to reapply his eyeliner and a beret sitting on his head. Back home he wouldn’t dream of wearing something like that but how else was he going to distinguish himself?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The last motherfucker on stage had gone up to play a guitar, singing something like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sweet Home Alabama, </span>
  </em>
  <span>despite the fact Ricks born in Alabama were an anomaly and the majority of those never really invented the portal gun. There was like, one on the Citadel, but he’d been brought there to be dissected for research.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then the Rick on stage finished his song with a final strum of his guitar, there was a quiet applause through the chatter and conversation - and well, he was up next. Shit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well. He snapped shut the compact to slide into his coat, beginning to make his way through the tables and seeing several of his own eyes on him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he stood up on the slightly raised stage, noticing no one was really watching the stage apart from a few wide-eyed Mortys at the nearest table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Was his eyeliner good? Rick made eye-contact for a second with himself in the mirror to check that yes it was indeed good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he took his notepad and began to tap his foot to the rhythm he’d put down for himself as he began to read and speak, keeping a rhythm-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I move down the street to-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he narrowly ducked a bottle being thrown at him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some Rick was now glaring at him from the bar, grasping another bottle of alien liquor the Citadel was sure to stock. His eye was twitching, although a Morty quickly rushed to his side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A-aw jeez, don’t--”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-your poetry--” The Rick took a moment to swig from the bottle, before wiping his mouth on his sleeve again. “Fffucking blows.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Could y-you do any better?” Rick grabbed the mic stand. He didn’t usually get hecklers but this bitch was clearly ready to throw down for whatever reason.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The poor Morty was trying to hold the approaching Rick back by grasping his wrist. “Oh, man, R-Rick, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>every </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rick hates poetry and a-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-stupid-- pussy artist bitch.” The Other Rick shouted, jabbing a finger. “At l-least write something that isn’t all </span>
  <em>
    <span>fake deep</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck-face.” Rick replied, deciding he probably wasn’t going to get his poem out but wanted to find a way out, trying to come up with good insults. So he cornered himself to slide around the wall to get out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Takes one- takes one... to know one. You turd- turdlet.” The other Rick snapped his fingers, struggling for an insult-- although Rick had quickly managed to push his way out of the bar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Perhaps it would go better tomorrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sky was a beautiful indigo nebula tonight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Rick sighed, deciding he should just call it a day. He wasn’t particularly feeling the poem he wrote today anyway, he could refine it tomorrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morty dumped two spoonfuls of granular coffee into the stained mug, quickly following it with boiling water. He’d cooked dinner but he hadn’t expected Rick to be home so soon, and the man clearly needed his caffeine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The yellow apartment lights flickered. Rick was pushing his food around with a plastic fork, rice drenched in red Thai curry. Their table was circular with two folding chairs - humble and very very different to the idyllic middle class suburb life back home on Earth. But they couldn’t go back there now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morty carried over the mug of coffee for him, pulling up a chair to sit and eat his own dinner. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Tough c-crowd?” Morty asked hopefully, putting a small smile on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“F-fucking awful, M-Morty, there… there was this </span>
  <em>
    <span>guy </span>
  </em>
  <span>who threw a bottle at me.” Rick picked up the coffee mug to take a deep swig. The man was used to downing still boiling hot coffee, although Morty couldn’t help but cringe a little. “Th-these Ricks don’t appreciate </span>
  <em>
    <span>the arts.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Assholes.” Morty mumbled, tapping his fork on the plate absentmindedly, before he suddenly remembered something. “Ah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The night sk-sky’s pretty tonight.” Morty had a glimmer in his eyes, pulling his notepad from his pocket and pushing it over to Rick. “I wrote something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“L-lemme see, Morty.” Rick leaned down to read it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Endless night falls on us again</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Billowing indigo so great</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a n-nebula above the Citadel t-tonight.” Morty explained. “I went out to go see it-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn, w-we gotta see that shit.” Rick leaned back in his chair, taking another deep swig from the coffee mug. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right now?” Morty blinked. “We haven’t f-finished dinner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“L--let’s just heat it up and head out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The very edge of the Citadel’s residential domes all had walkways with a glass window to see out to the distant stars. Each night, a different view. Tonight Rick hadn’t bothered to see where in the universe they’d teleported, but he and Morty could both see a binary star system nearby - the tinted windows allowing to look directly at the golden orbs. And on those two binary stars, a backdrop of endless stars and the nebula above.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morty was sure no one would be around here. Most Ricks at this hour were either asleep or drunkenly wandering the shopping or bar districts. And most Mortys… were tending those bars. On occasion you’d see a Morty gazing out at the stars, but for tonight they were alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-you think Darwin IV’s out there somewhere?” Morty leaned over the railing to stare out at those twin golden orbs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rick gave him a confused look, raising an eyebrow. “Haven’t h-heard of that planet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s like… this c-cool book where… I dunno, plenty of cool alien monsters on a planet called Darwin IV.” Morty rambled, trying to describe it. “I t-think it’s called Expedition, and the planet has two s...suns.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It p-probably exists out there somewhere, Morty.” Rick shrugged, going back out to staring out that endless window.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morty’s eyes flicked up for a second to that immense nebula and had a thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“H...how do you keep going? Y-y’know, we’re… so tiny.” Morty’s eyes went to Rick, quietly thinking for a second that his turtleneck and beret combo with eyeliner made him look rather… French. A poet, yes, but also French.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Spite, mostly, M-Morty.” Rick admitted. “Reality’s a c-cold shitty fuckin’ place and we-we’re all going to die but I’m going to enjoy the r-ride and… f-fuckin’ write about it, baby.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morty could understand that philosophy. Most Ricks he’d met basically had some variant of that philosophy - staying alive from spite, but they were going to try and enjoy the ride. Plus some added goal, pleasure, the secrets of the universe, getting as much alcohol as possible, creating art, being a slut, etc, etc, etc. And he’d gotten himself a poet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I g-guess I just exist.” Morty murmured.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lot-- lot of Ricks I meet d-don’t believe in love, man, must be even more depressing. Th-the one thing that makes all this f-fuckin’ shit worth it.” Rick shrugged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morty did smile a bit at this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And-- and--” A growing smile was coming to his face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, little shit.” Rick ruffled his hair, a faint smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Morty gazed up into those eyes with his own smile now beaming. “L-love you too, Rick.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you enjoyed considered leaving a Kudos or a Comment! Thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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